


Portions for Foxes

by plrtzglrb



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plrtzglrb/pseuds/plrtzglrb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after Lilly's death, Veronica is enlisted by the 09ers to investigate the disappearances of some of Neptune High's most notorious. Lo/Ve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blood in my Mouth

"Take off your robe."

_Exactly where do you draw the line between the undercover infiltration of a prostitution ring and actual sex slavery? Do you stop being undercover once you're actually under the covers?_

Veronica has to clamp down on her tongue to keep from telling Jorge to shove it where the sun don't shine. The silky material of her robe collects in a shimmery pool at her feet as it falls. She's got four minutes, if she's lucky.

_You've only got four minutes to save the world, Veronica. So what are you waiting for?_

A well-dressed man approaches from a dark corner and whispers into Jorge's ear. He nods but doesn't show his hand. Veronica clamps her tongue tighter still. Her eyes shift impatiently toward the doors at the other end of the room. So little time, now, until her target arrives. Tick tock, boys. Tick tock.

"Come with me," the man says. He leads her through the double doors and into a darkly furnished office. "Mr. Smith will be with you shortly."

Her father was not exactly what you would call "aware" of Veronica's most recent investigatory adventure. But after four of Neptune's most notorious 09er girls had disappeared within the span of a week, what choice did she have but to strip down to her underthings and infiltrate the prostitution ring within the mob? No time to answer that. She's racing against the clock.

She moves quickly, using the gadget Mac gave her to crack the security, copying the relevant files onto the micro chip she'd stashed in the lining of her…well, all in the name of justice. One more minute.

She hears the shuffle of feet beyond the oak doors, safely ejects, stashes, and smiles. And phase one is complete. Or so she hopes.

The thing about infiltrating a prostitution ring by getting yourself kidnapped is that at the end of the day, you've still been kidnapped. The only think separating Veronica from her 09er inmates is her backup, but now that she's gathered the evidence she was looking for, she's beginning to lose faith in her designated driver.

But maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.

**TWO WEEKS EARLER**

Veronica sits in the usual place, drinking the usual beverage and eating the usual sandwich. She stares down Dick Casablancas, who is gyrating into space while eating a folded slice of pepperoni pizza.

"That dude is tactless." Wallace thumps his tray on the table, drawing Veronica out of her engrossment. "Didn't his girlfriend just go missing?"

"I doubt he seriously thought of Madison Sinclair as his 'girlfriend.'" She uses airquotes to drive the point home.

"Still." Wallace snaps the top of his soda pop.

"That's why we're the good guys, and them's the bad guys, see?" Veronica says. She waves a french fry in his face.

"Veronica?"

She whips her head around. It's Meg Manning. Veronica smiles up at her sometime friend and offers her a seat. Meg eyes Wallace questioningly but says nothing as she sits.

"Wallace knows," Veronica says.

"Yeah, I'm sorry to hear about your sister," Wallace adds. "But Veronica's gonna get her back."

She smiles tightly. "I can't thank you enough for your help," Meg says. "Since Lizzie went missing, things have been…tense at home." Meg fiddles with the hem of her cardigan sleeve before casting another nervous smile at Veronica. "Have you found anything?"

Veronica steels herself. These Big Reveals are never easy. "Does the name Rodney Mullins mean anything to you?"

Meg raises her eyebrows. "I…yeah. He was my first kiss, back in middle school. We used to go to Bible camp together."

Veronica exchanges a look with Wallace, pulls a manilla folder from her bag, and slides it toward Meg. "What are these?" Meg asks as she peruses the contents.

"Emails between Lizzie and Rodney. They've been talking about running away together for a few months now."

Meg blinks in rapid succession and furrows her brows. "She couldn't…I mean, they hardly knew each other."

"I'll keep investigating a few other leads, check on Rodney and his friends, but at this point it's pretty likely she just ran away."

Meg nods. "Okay." She hands the folder back to Veronica, and her expression transforms from confusion to resolve. "I probably shouldn't keep these. Lizzie would kill me if she found them." She laughs in spite of herself and stands to leave. "Thank you, Veronica. Really. She's probably better off wherever she is." Meg smiles at Wallace before she departs.

"What do you think she meant by that?" Wallace asks.

"Who knows."

Across the way, Dick slobbers on a slice of pizza and attempts to feed it to Carrie Bishop.

"Oh, that is just sick," Wallace says, grimacing.

* * *

After school, Veronica collects the usual books from her locker and exchanges the usual banter with Wallace. She stares down Dick Casablancas as she makes her way to her car. He is sitting on the hood of Logan Echolls' XTerra and laughing as Logan gestures wildly and inappropriately with his hands. She is digging in her bag for the keys to her LeBaron when Dick notices her. He hops off the hood and says something to Logan, fist pounds to explosion, and makes his way toward Veronica.

She throws her bag into the passenger seat of her car and is startled when the intolerable Dick appears at her side.

"Yo, Veronica. What's up?"

Veronica looks suspiciously over both shoulders, places her hands on her hips, and puts on an exaggerated smile. "Am I being punk'd?" She stands on tip-toes to search the area behind Dick. "Ashton, are you there?"

Dick rolls his eyes. "I'm pretty sure they only punk important people."

"There's the Dick I know and loathe," Veronica says, punching Dick playfully in the shoulder. He rubs it with the palm of his hand.

"Hey, I don't want to be here any more than you want me here."

Veronica notes the uncharacteristic seriousness of his tone and crosses her arms. "So talk. I've got places to be."

"People to do, am I right?" Dick smiles mischievously but softens to his previous state at her unamused expression. "Look, Madison is like the only chick who will screw me right now, and she disappeared. So can you do your little Veronica magic and get her back?"

Veronica chews the inside of her cheek. "You want me _._  To help you. Find  _Madison Sinclair_?"

"I'll pay you."

"I don't know, Dick..."

"500 dollars."

"One thousand, and you fix my car."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Veronica smiles and motions to the word "SLUT" keyed into the door of her car. "A present from Madison." Dick glares. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Fine," he says, extending a hand for her to shake.

"Oh, I'm not touching that," she says, and she gets into the car. As she drives away, she locks eyes with a thoroughly confused Logan.

This should be fun.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Reviews are appreciated, and they tend to motivate me to keep writing. Thanks for reading!


	2. Biting my Tongue All Week

"I still can't believe you're helping those jerks."

"Justice is blind, my dear Wallace. And so is cold hard cash." Veronica takes the file from Wallace with slightly more enthusiasm than he was expecting. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for a legitimate excuse to read Madison's file?"

"You need hobbies. Plural."

Veronica smacks him on the arm with the manilla folder in response. She leans against the lockers as he continues to shuffle his text books around. "So, got any hot dates for the weekend?"

"You mean other than playing Nancy Drew with you? Hardly." Veronica smiles.

The conversation is interrupted by the sound of PCHer Chardo slamming Logan Echolls into a locker. "What did you do to her?" Chardo demands. Logan shoves him away with enough force to knock him into the opposite wall.

"What the hell, man," Logan says.

Chardo attempts to make another swing at Logan, but he's prevented by Dick and Casey, who hold him off. "She's gone, and I know you had something to do with it."

"What makes you think I'd care enough?" Chardo struggles through the restraints. Finally, he pulls away. Weevil appears at the other end of the hallway, and Chardo visibly cools. "This isn't over."

"Dude, what was that?" Dick asks.

Logan shrugs. "Must have skipped breakfast." He enters the combination to his locker.

After Wallace shuts his locker, Veronica, with full suspicion face, makes a bee line for the attendance office. Wallace asks her where she's going, and she tells him that she's confirming something.

Veronica knocks on the door frame before entering. "Hi, Mrs. Kiehl. I'm, like, super good friends with Caitlin Ford, and it's totally weird, but she didn't sit with us at lunch today. And at first I was like, whatever bitch, but then I was like, worried, you know? So I was kind of wondering if you knew anything about what happened to her?"

Mrs. Kiehl pushes her horn-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose and looks around the office conspiratorially. She leans in ever so slightly and puts on her best sympathy face. "Well I'm not supposed to say, but as long as you promise to keep it to yourself-"

Veronica holds up three fingers. "Girl Scout's honor."

"Mrs. Ford called and reported Caitlin missing sometime late last night. They haven't seen her since Wednesday afternoon."

If Veronica had learned anything over the last year, it was this: trust no one, trust your instincts, and it's never a coincidence.

After running a background check on Rodney Mullins and making a few calls to his school, she learned that he had a perfect record of attendance over the last few weeks. Unless he was keeping Lizzie stashed in his room - an unlikely possibility - Lizzie Manning probably hadn't gotten the chance to run away to be with Rodney.

Madison Sinclair's file indicated that, despite the dumb blonde facade, she was an A/B student with good attendance and serious potential for a future at a "Southern Ivy." The only point of interest was a letter from her fifth grade teacher detailing Madison's unrelenting cruelty toward a student by the name of Julie Stevens, but that wasn't exactly headline news. Surely she wouldn't have taken off of her own free will when she had so much at stake.

And then there's Caitlin Ford. Ford as in, heiress to the Ford Automotive empire. Her mother was an "alcoholic with a modeling problem," and her father was away on business more often than not. Average grades, average 09er home life. But other than that? Veronica knows little about Caitlin herself. Given Chardo's reaction to her disappearance, though, and her involvement with Logan, she is willing to bet that there is something else entirely going on. Unfortunately:

"Knock knock," Veronica says as she steps through the open doorway to Logan's pool house. He is laying in bed playing Grand Theft Auto, and he doesn't so much as flinch when he hears her voice.

"Security," he calls, though not loudly enough for anyone to hear. He hits a police helicopter with his bazooka gun, and it spirals to the ground in a fiery blaze.

"I thought we were friends," she says in exaggerated disbelief. She takes a seat on an ottoman and sets her bag down on his floor. He blows up another helicopter before finally pulling his eyes away from the game to look at her.

"Did you come to see how the better half lives?"

"You caught me," she says, raising her hands in mock surrender. "So what do you know about Caitlin Ford."

"Is that her last name?"

"Logan."

"I'm plum sorry, Ms. Veronica, but I don't know a thing. Other than how to make her scream."

Veronica makes the game-show buzzer sound. "Try again."

"Don't you have someone else to annoy?"

"Not until 5:30. Now what do you know?"

"Well, she liked it when I called her 'kitten.'"

"I'm serious, Logan."

"So am I. Chick had a cat fetish."

"'Liked,' 'had?' What's with the past tense, Logan? Sounds to me like you're hiding something."

He pauses his game. "Sounds to me like I broke up with her after I found out she was fucking some PCHer lowlife."

"Chardo."

"Chardo, Eduardo, all the same to me." He shrugs and continues to play.

"When was this?"

"I don't know, a few days ago? Wednesday?"

"Wednesday afternoon?"

"Maybe. Can the interrogation be over now? I can feel my youth slipping away," he says, making a sweeping gesture with the controller in his left hand.

She stands and replaces her bag on her shoulder. "Fine. I'm sure you'll sleep like a baby knowing you did absolutely nothing to help me save a bunch of your friends."

"You throw that word around, but I'm not sure you know what it means."

She flexes her jaw. "You're right, I don't."

Before she leaves, he pauses the game again and asks her to wait. "Caitlin had a coke problem."

"And?" Veronica stands in the doorway, eyebrows raised.

"And it was a real problem. Bathroom breaks every 30 minutes, late night phone calls to her dealer. It might be a good place to start."

"Do you know where she gets it?"

"Nope," he says, popping his P.

Veronica nods. "Thanks."

He continues to play his game. "Don't let the door hit you on your way out. Or do." He looks up to catch her indignant reaction, but she's already gone. He can't say he's not disappointed.

As Veronica makes her way back to her car, she lingers a bit, taking in the all-too-familiar Echolls Estate. The pool where she and Lilly had spent hours pretending to be synchronized swimmers as the boys looked on in appreciation. The secluded corner where she and Duncan shared their first kiss. The lawn chair where Logan was sitting when she accidentally caught him crying, head in hands, shoulders shaking. She sat silently next to him and rubbed his back until his breathing slowed.

And to think how completely their lives had changed in one short year. How she went from tucking drunk-out-of-his mind Logan safely into bed on Friday nights to asking gangsters to help her fix the headlights he'd bashed in with a crowbar.

She gave up on the nostalgia long ago - the same day she cut her hair, the same day she dropped her cashmere sweaters and khaki skirts off at the Salvation Army. The same day she stopped expecting life to be fair. Her best friend was murdered, and everyone treated her like she was responsible. She was raped, and Lamb just told her to go see the Wizard. It's hard to pine for the days of yore when they're colored with the knowledge that they could have fallen apart at any moment.

The worst part about losing her friends was not that she was lonely. It was not the pain of losing the past.

The worst part about losing her friends was the feeling that she had let herself down. She had counted on other people to make her happy, but they bailed on her as soon as things got rough. Her entire worldview was shattered. After that, she resolved to reserve her trust for those who truly earned it. And that left her with no one but her father and herself.

She takes a heavy breath. So Caitlin Ford is a coke head.

Veronica arrives home just after dark and makes herself some dinner. Her father left a note saying that he'd be staking out the Camelot all night, so she's free to investigate in the living room. She hates that she can't share this case with her dad, but she believes that he's better off not knowing. The Case of the Disappearing PYTs is probably not the sort of thing Keith would want her working on. Of course, if he had it his way, Veronica would stay out of the family business altogether.

She plops down on the floor with her laptop, a phone, and some leftover spaghetti and gets to work. Another Friday night in the once-glamourous life of Veronica Mars.

At 9, she gives up.

"Wallace," she says sweetly into the receiver.

"What do you want?"

"How would you like to experience the debauchery, the scandal, the insanity, the lasciviousness-?"

"Veronica."

"Wanna score some coke at an 09er party?"

"There's a party tonight?"

"I ask you to help me purchase cocaine, and you question the existence of a party?"

"I try not to ask too many questions."

"That's probably for the best. So? Party?"

Keith arrives home just as Wallace and Veronica are heading out. He stops them to ask where they're going, but Veronica explains that Wallace needs to experience an 09er party first-hand in order to understand how much better off he is hanging out with her. Wallace just shrugs in agreement and tells Keith that he has no part in this, and Keith tells them to be home by 1.

"So I take it your dad isn't privy to the real plan?" She gives him an 'are you kidding' face. "What is the real plan, anyway?"

"Caitlin Ford liked to snuff the fluff, and I'm willing to bet her dealer will be at this party."

"And you think this has something to do with...Madison?"

"I think this has everything to do with Madison. And Lizzie. Hey, could you pull over here?"

Wallace pulls into a gas station at Veronica's command. She hops out and approaches Weevil, who is about to ride away on his bike.

"What do you know about Chardo and Caitlin Ford?" she asks, arms crossed.

"Nice to see you, too, Veronica." She raises her eyebrows expectantly. "Until now, nothing. Is there something I should know?"

"Logan Echolls seems to think his girlfriend's been cheating with one of your guys."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Weevil mutters.

"What?"

"Nothing. Look, thanks for the tip." He starts to shift his weight on his bike.

"I have a favor to ask you."

"And I should help you, what? Out of the goodness of my heart?"

"Uh, duh," she says. "And in exchange for the information I just fed you."

He tilts his head and eyes her questioningly. She is unwavering. "Fine. What is it?"

"Word on the street is there's a pretty epic 09er party going down at Dog Beach tonight. I need you to promise me that the PCHers won't crash it."

"Did those ass wipes let you back into their little club?"

"Just promise."

He holds out a hand for her to shake.


	3. Keep on Talking Trash

Dog beach is littered with bikini babes and beer cans. Students laugh and dance by the bonfire to Top 40 Hits while drinking from half-empty bottles of lemon vodka. Away from the fire, couples roll around in the sand, swapping clothing for moonlit seclusion, and in the distance, a gaggle of drunk girls are dunked into the ocean by their equally inebriated boyfriends.

"Behold, the seedy underbelly," Veronica says.

"This is not what I was expecting." She throws an arm around Wallace and rubs a hand playfully through his hair. "Hey, watch it," he says.

"I'm just so proud. My baby's first boy-girl party."

He pulls away and points a finger at her in warning. "I dare you to call me baby one more time."

She holds an imaginary microphone to her mouth. "Oh baby, baby. How was I supposed to know?" she sings.

"I don't know you." He walks away from her toward the fire, but she skips to catch up. "What's with you, anyway? I thought you hated the 09ers."

"With every fibre of my being." Her voice takes a slightly serious tone. "Now let's find us some party dust."

Wallace locks eyes with a girl on the other side of the fire. He smiles at her, and she smiles shyly back. It's Jane Kuhne. "Yeah, you do that," he says. "I'll be over there."

Veronica scoffs in fake indignation, but she smiles at the back of Wallace's head. She knows she's probably better off sleuthing on her own. She shoves her hands in her pockets and looks around for Dick, who is drinking from a red cup and chatting up Carrie Bishop. She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding in - no Duncan in sight.

Veronica approaches with confidence. She snakes an arm around Dick's waist and rests her head on his arm. "Hi, Carrie. Bye, Carrie."

Carrie raises her eyebrows as if to say, 'Really?' but Dick shrugs and smiles smugly at the turn of events. Carrie just rolls her eyes and struts away. Once she's gone, Dick moves to wrap both arms around Veronica, but she swiftly pushes him away.

"Not in this or any lifetime."

"You tease me, Veronica."

"Right..." She catches him ogling and crosses her arms across her chest. "Was Madison taking any drugs that you know of?"

"Who, Madison? Nah. She was pretty clean beyond the recreational doobs. Kind of a buzz kill."

Well there's a surprise. "Do you know of anyone at this party who might be selling drugs?"

He takes a sip of his drink. "If you wanna party, Veronica, all you have to do is ask."

She raises her brows. "Caitlin Ford had a coke problem. I need to find her dealer."

"Hey, I'm paying you to find Madison." Veronica slaps the drink out of his hand. "What the hell!"

"We're wasting time. Who's dealing?"

He huffs. "Sean Friedrich supplies at all the big parties."

"Sean Friedrich? Son of a billionaire, Sean Friedrich?"

He holds his hands up in defense. "Lifestyles of the rich and famous." Veronica looks pensive, and Dick cools. "So are we gonna make out or what?"

"Yeah." She shakes her head slowly and starts to walk away. "I'll let you know when I find out more about your girlfriend, Madison."

"I hate you, Veronica," he calls. She responds with a smile and two thumbs up.

So, Sean Friedrich? Sean had always been a mystery to Veronica in her days of 09er-dome. He'd had a car take him to and from school every day since Freshman year. He was by no means modest, either - he'd often brag about the vacations he had taken with his family and the gifts they'd bought him - so it was odd that he had never hosted any parties or made any other spectacular displays of his wealth. What incentive does the kid who has everything have to deal drugs? He could hardly be hard on cash. Or maybe Dick is right. Maybe Sean really was just bored.

Bored or not, Veronica is convinced that Sean knows something important.

"Have you seen Sean Friedrich?" Veronica's urgency catches Wallace off guard.

"What's going on?" he says.

"I think I saw him walking towards the dunes with a couple of guys," Jane interjects. She is standing less than a foot away from Wallace and smiling amiably.

"That little punk." Veronica shakes her head admonishingly. "Thanks," she says and marches away. Wallace and Jane watch Veronica fade into the background before regaining eye contact.

"She does that a lot, I take it?" Jane asks.

"You have no idea."

The dunes of Dog Beach are the domain of the debaucherous. The dark, sandy seclusion and ocean breeze make it a sought-after destination for Neptune's elite and the less glamourous inhabitants alike. During Keith's reign as sheriff, the department regularly busted everyone from 09ers to the Fitzpatricks on those dunes, but Sheriff Lamb knew better than to bother with either group.

He had his "reasons."

Veronica removes her boots to walk through the cool, deep dunes. She presses foot after foot into the sand, breathes in the salty air. She shivers. Rubs her hands on her arms to keep warm. And then she sees him, lit dimly by the flame of a lighter sparking up a joint. She quickens the pace of her righteous march, gliding now down the side of a low dune, boots in hand, rage supreme, determined to get the names of every client and supplier he's ever had.

Veronica stops at the sound of dry heaving. She smells urine and salt and bile, turns her head quickly, and -

It is Logan, unmistakably. He is more than 30 feet away from her, and the moon is hardly bright enough tonight to make out his features, but she is sure it's him, with his long body awkward and limp, shoulders undulating as he writhes and heaves. She looks to Sean again, huddled in a group of four or five, pot smoke curling in clouds around their heads. She wants to scream, hit something, anything.

Because Veronica is at war with herself, and she doesn't want to be. This should be easy. Corner Sean on the pretense of buying and get him to talk. She's done and home within the hour if all goes according to plan. Mission accomplished.

And really, what incentive has Logan given her lately to help him out? He'd spent the last year making sure that her life was uniquely difficult. It wasn't just busted headlights and after-school name calling. It was a carefully pre-meditated, no holds barred mission to unmake Veronica Mars. It was endless, and endlessly cruel. She chose to fight back with equal vitriol, but it was far from easy. Because it was personal with Logan. He knew her weaknesses, and he exploited them.

There was, though, one single factor causing her to consider the impossible: her word. Being the daughter of a private eye and an accomplished sleuth herself, she had come to deal trust as currency. Veronica Mars was many times a manipulator of the truth, an undercover agent, a rule-breaker, but she was always good on her word. Because that was all she had.

This is what she tells herself as she sighs heavily and marches back up the dune toward the partially-unconscious Logan. Because she promised.

It was summer break. Lilly and Duncan were in Palm Springs for the week with their parents, leaving Logan and Veronica to attend Madison's summer blowout alone. At first, Veronica had resolved to stay at home working on summer reading and watching the Real World, but Logan used his powers of persuasion (and the promise of post-party IHOP) to convince her to tag along.

"Ugh. I can't just say no to breakfast food at a non-breakfast time of day."

"I know."

"I feel exploited. And hungry."

"Then my work here is done."

This was the first time Veronica and Logan had truly hung out one-on-one, or at least the first time since they had started dating Duncan and Lilly. Veronica would have felt wrong about the arrangement had it not been for Lilly's explicit instructions of "try to console each other while we're gone," and, "don't miss us too terribly."

Logan arrived at her house a full hour before the party was supposed to begin. It wasn't a date, of course, so Keith skipped the "she gets pregnant, they'll never find the body" speech. He did, however, make Logan promise to have her home before 1:00, which Veronica negotiated up to 1:30. "But only because he's buying me breakfast."

"A sentence I never want to hear you say again."

"Don't worry, Mr. Mars, I won't let her get me into any trouble."

"I'm sure you won't."

Logan opened the door to his truck for her. She pulled the skirt of her pastel sundress tight beneath her legs to keep it from getting caught when he slammed it shut.

"You look nice," he said casually as they pulled away. She looked out the window at the passing scenery and chewed on the inside of her cheek. "It's a compliment, Veronica, not a proposition."

"Sorry. Thanks." She turned on the radio, which immediately began blaring heavy rock music at full volume. "Agh!" She turned it down. "Got any extra tickets to the Warped Tour?" She switched to the college station and left the volume on low.

"I'm using the healing powers of music to channel my inner rage in an appropriate forum."

"You sound like you've been in anger management," she joked.

Logan quietly switched on the turn signal. "Maybe I have been," he said significantly, eyes fixed ahead. She pressed her lips together and gave him a concerned look, sans obligatory pity. He turned and held her gaze for a moment. "That stays between us."

"Of course."

"That was 'Trigger Cut/Wounded-kite at :17' by Pavement, and before that was Bowie's 'All the Young Dudes.' Now we've got the first single off the new Rilo Kiley LP. This is 'Portions for Foxes,' and you're listening to KRFF, Hearst College."

"I love this song." Veronica turned up the volume. "Lilly keeps playing it for me. She says it's her."

There's blood in my mouth

'cause I've been biting my tongue all week.

I keep on talking trash

but I never say anything.

"Sounds more like you to me."

"What?"

"Please, when has Lilly ever refrained from speaking her mind."

Veronica gaped at him. "I speak my mind!"

"With me, maybe."

Veronica's indignation dissolved into reluctant agreement, and finally she turned her head and smiled warmly out the window.

Once again, he had demonstrated exactly how well he could read her. That he knew very well that she could give as good as she got. But she held back, and for what? For her reputation? Maybe, but she thought poorly enough of the majority of the other 09ers to not let their opinions get to her.

No, the reason Veronica had so often kept her more controversial opinions to herself was Duncan. Veronica was, at the time, cautiously optimistic, and Duncan was sensitive. She loved that about him, that he believed the best in people and was so openly affected by criticism. He worked so hard to make sure that the people around him were safe and happy, and with Logan's recklessness and Lilly's…recklessness, Veronica felt compelled to be as safe and happy as a girl could be.

I know I'm alone

if I'm with or without you.

But just being around you

offers me another form of relief.

Veronica knew why Lilly loved that song so much - because she thought the song was about the inevitability and meaninglessness of sex. It was about being dangerous, being in complete control over losing control. But Veronica thought that it was about more than that. About connecting with people to feel safe, to feel more than nothing. Veronica never loved the song because Lilly loved it - she loved it because it was the only thing that made her feel less crazy about her relationship with Duncan.

Warm, safe Duncan. Loving Duncan. Veronica loved him, really, but she always felt like there was something missing. At the time, she had thought it was natural, that that was the way love worked. But now she is sure that she was only with him then because she was afraid of what would happen if they ever split. She was afraid that she would lose more in friendship than she would gain in freedom.

Maybe you were on to something, Old Veronica.

They drove around for an hour and a half to kill time before the party, listening to the radio and sharing comfortable silences peppered with laughter. When they finally did arrive at Madison's, the party was in full swing.

"I can't wait to talk about cuticle care with Madison," Veronica chirped.

Logan laughed softly to himself. "But how do you really feel?"

"Like a fairy princess."

"Just be back before midnight. If my truck turns into a pumpkin, I'm suing."

Logan broke away to do keg stands with Dick, leaving Veronica to make small talk with Shelley Pomroy for an hour. The only way to get through it was to drink, and drink, and drink. How many drinks has it been? she wondered. "And I was like, Jessica Biel is totally hotter than Beverly Mitchell, but Lucy is the one who gets to date Geoff Stultz? And I'm supposed to take this show seriously?" Answer: keep drinking, Veronica.

By the time Shelly had exhausted her numerous frustrations with 7th Heaven, Veronica was barely able to hold herself up. "I hope I end up in one of the other six heavens," she said before stumbling four feet to the nearest couch and collapsing on an arm rest.

She was out for just two minutes before unleashing the first batch of vomit on Madison Sinclair's suede couch. "Oops," she said to herself. She wiped her mouth on the back of her wrist and giggled and zonked out again.

The next thing she remembered was the cold, hard, bright white ceramic bowl and the remnants of the afternoon's double bacon cheeseburger floating homogeneously in the blue toilet water. "I don't think Madison likes me very much." She felt a gentle pressure on her upper back and a light tug at the back of her scalp.

"Unfortunately, I think your little Linda Blair moment was only a contributing factor."

"Yeah, that and the-" Vomit. "-fact that she's a raging bitch. Water." He held a cup of water to her lips and she took a long swig, swished and gargled and spat. "Remind me never to drink again, ever."

"But you're so cute when you're sitting in your own vomit."

"That happened?" Dry heave. "I think I got it all out. Or maybe-" Vomit. "-not."

He continued to rub circles on her back while she knelt there by the toilet for minutes and minutes without moving or speaking or puking. She closed her eyes and breathed heavily, trying hard to concentrate on anything but the taste of cheap vodka and sugary soda. Eventually, she moved from a kneeling position to sit back into Logan's lap. She buried her head sideways into his chest and prayed for time to catch up with her brain.

"My leg is asleep," he said after five minutes had passed.

"Sorry," she said, and she slowly started to regain control of her body. She shifted into an upright position, blinked her eyes a few times at the harsh brightness, and used a hand to smell her own breath.

"Here," Logan said, extending a hand to help her stand up. She propped herself up on the sink with her elbows and rested her head in her hands while he rifled through the medicine cabinet.

"You're a really good friend, Logan."

"Now, now. We both know I'm just using you for sex," he teased.

Veronica shook with drunken laughter. "If you really wanted to have sex with me, it would have already happened."

"I don't know how to break it to you, Veronica, but you just spewed cheese on Madison's couch. I only date chicks who puke on ottomans."

"Bring me an ottoman, then." She looked up at him with glassy, half-aware eyes, beaming. He stood silent, stunned for a moment, but quickly regained composure and poured her a cap-full of mouthwash.

"Do I have to count to 30? It makes my mouth feel like knives."

"Just do what you can."

She winced as she swished the mouthwash around. "Yuck." Veronica stared soberly into the mirror and let out a groan. "Is it weird that I'm hungry?"

"I'll have the bluberry stuffed french toast. Make that a combo. Eggs over easy. I mean medium, over medium. And, uh…double bacon."

"Save some for the fish." Their teenage waiter stood bored and blinking. "Just a short stack for me."

"Girl." The bored teenage waiter took their menus wordlessly and walked away.

"Don't come crying to me when you're reenacting that scene from Monty Python's Meaning of Life. Again."

Veronica shut her eyes and held her forehead in her hands. "Don't remind me. I'm trying to avoid a sequel."

"Clearly."

She pointed her straw at him accusatorially. "More carbs equals less drunk equals happy Keith. Equals math."

Logan considered this seriously. "Good point."

Veronica took a sip of her iced tea and spun the cubes around in circles with her straw. "Hey, uh."

"Yes?" He raised a playful eyebrow, and she eased.

"I just wanted to thank you, seriously, for tonight. I've never really been so…that…before."

He nodded. "It's what I'm here for."

"And...I want to be there for you, too. I mean, we haven't really hung out much outside of the group, and-"

"Veronica, you don't owe me anything."

"I know, but I feel strangely compelled."

He picked up the straw wrapper and ripped it into tiny bits. "If it means that much to you-"

"It does."

He grinned and looked up at her. "-I'll let you hold my hair back, but that's it."

She looked at him sincerely before scrunching her face up into a satisfied smile. She held out a hand for him to shake. "You got yourself a deal, partner."

Their agreement had remained untested for weeks, as Logan was relatively tame in Lilly's presence. He was always Logan, always reckless and wild, but he held back whenever he thought Lilly might be getting in over her head. He figured it's hard to protect your girlfriend when you're passed out in the backseat.

And then she started pushing him away. They began the tumultuous on-and-off phase that would last until Lilly's death, and it shook him. Lilly cared about Logan, but she was never in it for the long haul. He knew that, but he allowed himself to get sucked in anyway. The constant up and down made for blurry weekends interrupted by flashes of silky blond hair and comforting words, fresh linen tucked up around his chin, and "it doesn't have to be like this."

She held up on her end of the bargain, all right. If he had been completely honest with himself, he'd have to admit that sometimes he would push himself just a little bit farther over the edge, knowing that Veronica would be there to help him. It made him sick, and weak, but he couldn't help but love the feeling that there was somebody out there who cared enough to help - even if it was technically only out of gratitude.

Lord knows that's all he ever wanted.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she mutters, as she stomps violently up the dune. "Logan," she says, shaking him hard by the shoulder. "Logan, come on, get up. You're drunk."

He groans and rolls his face into the sand.

"Loooogan," she sing-songs. He shivers, and her long-dormant concern for him bubbles up. She crouches down on one knee and shakes his shoulder more gently now. "Logan, can you hear me?"

He grabs her ankle and pulls himself to her, rests his head on her foot and curls up around her. She falls into the sand and lets out yet another deep sigh. She looks up at the sky - it's a dark night and clear enough to see clusters of stars overhead, blinking dimly. She wonders how they got this far from who they used to be, or if they were ever even as close as she'd thought they were. It's the same problem that has plagued her night after night, every night for a year, every day in school that Duncan fails to acknowledge her, every prank Logan pulls, every scowl from every 09er.

She is tired of it all. She's bored. Sick of waiting for her life to restore some resemblance of what it was. Why keep a promise made in another life, by another girl to another boy? That's who they were - different people in different worlds. "This is pointless." Bizarro Veronica places her hands in the sand and pushes to stand. She tries to pull her ankle away, but Bizarro Logan's drunken gasp holds firm.

"Veronica," he mutters.

She stands frozen still. She knows that this is wrong. He's hallucinating. He's drunk. She was momentarily thrown for a loop, guilted by the past. Nothing more.

He opens his eyes; she feels for him, and that is enough.


End file.
